


Trussed

by Eviscera



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bondage, It's these two, M/M, That's it, What more do you want?, really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 13:11:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2111166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eviscera/pseuds/Eviscera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki has an idea.  He hopes Clint will like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trussed

　

　

It was late when Clint returned home. The street lights illuminated the path as he trudged his way to the front door. Glancing up, he noticed the windows of the apartment he shared with Loki were dark. He tried to stifle the disappointment he felt that Loki hadn’t waited up for him. Clint was often late getting home, it wasn’t like he could expect to keep regular hours in his line of work.

Well, it was enough that Loki deigned to stay with him at all. It was more than he could say for anyone else.

As he expected, the lights were all off when he unlocked and stepped through the door. He tried to keep the keys from jangling too loudly; if Loki was asleep, he didn’t want to wake him. With the door closed and locked behind him, Clint found himself holding his breath and listening for any sounds of movement. There was nothing to be heard, but after his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, he noticed a subtle, dim lighting spilling from around the bedroom door.

Curious, Clint slipped out of his boots and made his way down the short hall, treading quietly, more out of reflex than any conscious decision.

"Loki?" Clint called softly. "You still up?"

A low, quiet chuckle floated from behind the door, and Clint heard shifting on the bed. Inexplicably, his pulse picked up.

"In a manner of speaking," Loki answered, and there was something darkly enticing about the tone of his voice.

The door opened on quiet hinges, allowing the low, mellow candlelight to spill into the hallway. The flames flickered, reflecting in Clint’s eyes as he took in the sight before him.

His mouth went dry as his eyes traveled over Loki’s kneeling body. On his knees, splayed open and keeping nothing hidden from his Hawk’s view. His elbows rested on the sheets, wrists bound together with a length of rope. From there, Clint’s gaze traveled over the intricate knots binding his legs, tied in such a way that he was forced to keep his knees bent and spread.

It was a gorgeous sight, made all the more alluring when Loki tossed his head and sent a narrow-eyed glare over his shoulder. That was when he saw it, and it shot his arousal from a slow simmer to a rolling boil in less time than it took to blink.

Loki was wearing his collar.

When he saw the focus of Clint’s gaze and the obvious lust that clouded his face, Loki smirked.

"Welcome home, my Hawk," he drawled.

Clint blinked and let out an amused huff as he stepped closer. "Thanks," he said, eyes trailing over the latticework of rope that held him bound and immobile. "Lot of trouble to go to, how’d you even get like that?" He reached out and ran his finger over one of the knots before sliding his hand down one smooth thigh.

Loki purred as Clint stroked his skin and arched into his touch as much the ropes would allow before answering. "Magic, of course," he said, tossing his head with a hiss as Clint scratched his nails up the sharp arch of his spine.

"Of course," Clint echoed, twining his fingers deep in Loki’s hair before gripping tightly and jerking his head back. Loki gasped, his mouth falling open, eyes rolled back in bliss at the sharp, pain-laced pleasure. "Where’d you get this idea, anyway? Pretty impressive ropework, they do this kinda thing a lot where you’re from?"

Loki’s teeth flashed in a lupine grin. "We are not so very different from you when it comes to what we enjoy in the bedroom," he said, twisting his head just enough to feel the tug of Clint’s grip in his hair. "During my last outing, I happened upon a rather clandestine bookstore. My natural curiosity got the better of me. Did you know there are entire _volumes_ of these clever arrangements?"

"I’ll take your word for it," Clint said, roughly releasing his hold on Loki’s hair to stalk around to face him. Their positions -- Loki kneeling and bent onto his elbows, and Clint standing -- was more than a little suggestive, and Loki made no attempt to hide his interest in what was now at eye-level.

Clint smirked and hooked his fingers under Loki’s jaw, tilting his head at a nearly impossible angle until he could see the candlelight reflecting off the gold plate of Loki’s collar. ‘ _Property of Clint Barton’_ stamped neatly in scrawling script. Every time he saw it, Clint felt a swelling of pride, to know that this haughty, dangerous _, beautiful_ creature wished to be called _his_.

Loki’s gaze was steady, unwavering as Clint leaned down to brush his lips ever-so-gently against his forehead.

"So what’s the occasion?" he asked, his hand sliding from Loki’s jaw to gently circle his throat. He could feel the god’s pulse against his palm, the thin strap of the collar beneath his fingers, and he felt the motion of Loki’s throat as he swallowed before answering.

"Nothing more than to have you claim me, my Hawk," he said in a voice smooth as silk. "I wish to be beneath you as you take all that I am and make me your own to do with as you please."

Clint’s fingers tightened around Loki’s throat, and his next breath carried the hint of a growl. Loki’s breath hitched and he pushed his throat into Clint’s grip, using every bit of his limited leverage.

"Good," he growled, "because the way you’re tied up, you’re not gonna have much choice."

Loki shuddered and bit his lip against a whimper, and Clint’s sharp eyes didn’t miss the way his hips twitched.

Straightening back up, Clint gazed down at the bound god, his eyes sliding over the expanse of naked skin. The ropes bit in just a bit too deeply, and Clint could see where the rope burns would be later. He found himself anticipating the sight of them, and for a brief moment, he wished Loki wasn’t the type to heal quite so fast. He would have loved having the evidence of this night branded into his skin, to look upon whenever he wished.

Well, he would just have to make sure this night was as memorable as possible.

"How long have you been sitting here like this?" Clint asked as he moved to circle Loki’s bound form. His eyes followed the path of the rope circling his waist, down his outer thighs. The knots holding him immobile held his lower legs to his thighs, so that his heels rested against his backside. There was no leverage for Loki to move, and Clint doubted he’d been very comfortable during his wait.

"Not long at all, my Hawk," Loki murmured, and gave a sigh when he felt Clint run a finger over the rope at his ankle. "I would happily wait hours for you."

"I’ll keep that in mind, Princess."

Clint smirked at the thought of Loki tying himself up and having to wait an entire afternoon for him to come home. He was already wound pretty tight; he could only imagine how frantic he would be if made to wait _hours_. The mental image of him desperate and whimpering when Clint walked through the door wouldn’t leave him alone, and he made sure to file it away for another time.

The bed dipped as Clint settled himself behind Loki, sliding his knees between his spread thighs so he could pull him into his lap. Loki rose up on his palms to press against his solid weight, a low, purring moan rumbling in his chest.

"You’re loving this, aren’t you?" Clint asked, running his hands up Loki’s flanks and marveling at the play of muscles beneath his skin.

"Your hands upon me? Lying naked and spread open for you? The sound of your voice low and primal in my ear as you ply my body? It is nothing short of bliss for me."

As if to prove the truth of his words, Loki ground his hips against Clint’s growing hardness, and Clint groaned at the friction and heat he could feel radiating from the body below him. Clint slid one hand around Loki’s hip, finding him hard and leaking, his heavy arousal nearly brushing his lower belly.

"Yeah, I can tell," Clint husked, fingers wrapping dutifully around Loki’s thick hardness. A shudder wracked his body, and Loki’s head dropped to the sheets with a sharp gasp. "Bet this feels even better, though."

Bound as he was, Loki couldn’t writhe as effectively as he wished, but he certainly tried. His hips moved in a tight circle, rutting into Clint’s loosely-curled fist. Each motion pulled the ropes tighter around his thighs, the skin turning an angry red beneath the coarse strands of hemp. Clint’s gaze was locked onto the sinuous motion of his hips and the growing contrast of pale skin turning crimson. His fist reflexively tightened around Loki’s cock, and the god let out a mewl of frustrated need.

The sound seemed to bring Clint’s focus back to where it needed to be, and on Loki’s next thrust, he clamped his fingers tightly just under the head of the turgid length.

All motion beneath him ceased, and Loki choked out a sobbing whine at his halted pleasure.

"You didn’t answer me, Princess," Clint admonished. "Does this feel better? Or do you think I should just go back to this?" So saying, he trailed the fingers of his other hand up the outside of Loki’s bound thigh, the touch teasingly light.

Loki gave a lip-biting whimper before gasping, "So much better-- _yes!"_ Clint dragged his hand down to the base of Loki’s cock, his grip still firm, almost to the point of pain. The tremors running through Loki’s body grew stronger.

At Loki’s shouted affirmation, Clint snarled and dug his fingers into the flesh of his hips before yanking him back against him. His still-clothed groin rutted up against Loki’s backside, seeking whatever contact he could get.

"That’s what I wanted to hear," he panted, the effort of holding himself back straining his voice.

"Please, my Hawk," Loki whimpered. "Will you gift me with more?"

"Begging already?" Clint asked, digging his fingers deeper into the flesh of Loki’s hips until he felt the sharp ridge of bone. Loki mewled and let his head fall between his shoulders, gasping down at the sheets. "Tell me what you want," he demanded.

"I wish--," Loki began, only to cut himself off with a strangled cry when Clint pulled his hips tight against his lower belly. "I wish to feel you bare against me, Clint," he finally managed to gasp.

Clint smirked at the request. "I know what you want," he groaned. "You wanna feel _this_ ," he thrust up against him even harder.

"Yes!" Loki gasped. "Please? I wish to feel your heat against me, before I beg for it _inside_ me..."

The body part in question twitched in anticipation within the confines of its denim prison, but Clint only reluctantly released his grip on Loki’s hips. He couldn’t deny there was a thrill to have so much control over his every movement; that, with just a squeeze of his fingers, he could have Loki babbling and promising any number of things if only he would end the torment.

"So you plan on begging even _more_?" Clint asked as he drew back, watching closely the marks left by his fingers slowly begin to fade from Loki’s skin.

"Before this night is done, my voice will be ragged," Loki promised.

Clint hummed his approval as he leaned back to pull his shirt off. Loki’s head arched back to catch a glimpse, his body shuddering at the sight of his Hawk’s naked chest. He ached to run his tongue over the ridges and dips of his belly, to sink is teeth into the meat of his shoulder, but he was bound and unable to move.

Clint could see the struggle in Loki’s eyes and the way his body strained in the ropes, and couldn’t help his devious smirk.

"What’s the matter, Princess?" he taunted, leaning back even further before he began to unbuckle his belt. "See something you want?"

Loki’s eyes fell to half-mast as he watched his archer’s nimble fingers, and with each metallic clink of his belt buckle, he felt his cock give a sharp twitch. His breath left him in shuddering pants and he lifted his eyes to meet Clint’s smug gaze. In answer, his tongue peeked out and slicked over his lower lip before pulling it between his teeth, eyes narrowed predatory and sharp.

All of Loki’s feigned coyness dropped from his face when Clint pushed his jeans down just far enough to free his cock. At the sight of him finally bare, Loki couldn’t help the whine that spilled from his throat. Like a trained dog, his mouth began to water just looking at the throbbing length, lying flushed and swollen against Clint’s lower belly.

"I’ll take that as a yes," Clint said around a smirk, and Loki’s eyes flicked to his. They were dark, pupils so blown with lust they were nearly black. "Y’know, I think I like this look on you. Gonna have to tie you up more often."

Loki’s mouth curved in a scimitar smile, teeth glinting in the candlelight. "I am glad you find it so pleasing," he purred. "Would it amuse you to know that I was quite unsure of your reaction?" His eyes dropped to Clint’s insistent hardness. "It is clear now that I gambled well."

"Oh, you definitely hit a button with this one," Clint assured him, once more running his hands along Loki’s flanks before digging his fingers into his hips. He pulled him down as he thrust upwards, and finally there was the heat of Loki’s flesh against his own. "Fuck," he groaned, "how are you always so _hot_?" Loki’s heat was searing into him, until Clint was sure he could feel his blood pulsing just beneath his skin.

"Is it still so surprising?" Loki asked, grinding his hips against Clint’s. "I _burn_ for you; ache for your touch. It will never cease, my Hawk."

Clint’s eyes screwed shut against the sudden surge of arousal Loki’s words called up. It always affected him when Loki spoke of his lust, but never so much as when they were like this; skin to skin with nothing between them. There was no way Loki could hide anything from him when he was so exposed and vulnerable. He had offered himself up like some kind of trussed-up beast for the slaughter, and Clint planned to use him up until there was nothing left.

Suddenly, it wasn’t enough to simply feel Loki against him. Clint needed something more.

"You want me to touch you?" he asked, bending low over Loki’s arched back to growl into his ear. His hands slid forward, bracketing his groin before using his hold to pull Loki even more firmly against him. His cock nestled firmly in the cleft of his ass, and Loki let out a desperate gasp at the pressure and heat.

"Please?" he sighed.

"Oh, Princess," Clint murmured, so low in his ear that Loki felt more than heard it. "You’re gonna have to do better than that."

It was a constant game between the two of them; how far they could push the other before they broke down and begged, shamelessly pleading for the torment to end. Clint knew Loki was nearing his breaking point. The shuddering hitches in his breath and the way he circled his hips against him were proof enough, but the most telling of all was how taut the muscles of his back and shoulders were. They both knew how strong Loki truly was; the strongest chains would snap like threads between the god’s hands, there was little that could hold him bound, unless he wished it. These ropes were little more than eye-candy. The real restraint was Loki’s own will. He _wanted_ to be used, controlled like a rag doll for Clint’s whims. He was holding back.

To anyone else, it might have been insulting to the point of disgust, but Clint found it oddly -- _hotly_ \-- endearing. He had -- for lack of a better term -- a _god_ , on his knees, ass in the air, needy and desperate to the point of begging for nothing more than the feel of his hands on his skin. If that wasn’t flattering, Clint didn’t know what was.

At the barest press of Clint’s fingers into the sensitive hollow where thigh met groin, Loki finally relented. "Please, Clint," he hissed, and shuddered at the sound of his own voice in that pleading tone. "Touch me... no one has ever touched me the way you do."

 

Clint’s throat clenched at the pure truth of emotion in Loki’s words. To think that no one in his long, long life had ever laid their hands on him in a way that made him feel so utterly owned was the highest compliment Clint could think of.

"No one, huh?" he sighed, breath fanning over the skin between Loki’s shoulders. "No one else ever got to see you this needy? Got to hear you whimper and moan like a whore?"

"Never," Loki gasped. "I would have cut out the tongue of anyone who dared _think_ to call me a whore."

"But you make such a _perfect_ whore," Clint argued as his hips began to move. He smirked at Loki’s wanton moan at the press of hard, hot flesh against his hole. He began a steady, rocking rhythm. "And I love hearing those sounds you make when I remind you of that."

Loki threw his head back and _shoved_ his hips into Clint. They both nearly overbalanced, and Clint had to grip Loki’s hips bruising-tight to keep from being bucked entirely off the edge of the bed. A startled laugh erupted from his throat at the sudden display of arousal.

"Eager little whore," he admonished, tangling his fist into the hair at the back of Loki’s head and pushing his face into the mattress. Loki moved with him easily, as if that was the reaction he’d been going for.

"Please, Clint, no more teasing." His voice was muffled by the sheets, but there was no mistaking his desperation. "Call me what you will, be it whore or god, but _please_..."

As if to prove just how deep his need ran, the flesh surrounding Clint’s arousal _clenched_ , as if in a bid to pull him inside. Clint cursed quietly under his breath; he’d never known Loki could do _that_ with his ass, but now that he knew, there was definitely going to be more of it in the future.

It wasn’t like Clint could be any more turned on, there was really no reason why he shouldn’t be fucking Loki through the mattress already, and so he wasted no more time with teasing and taunting. He leaned down, tugging Loki’s head back to groan into his ear; "Get me ready for you, then."

Loki let out a relieved pant before whispering the needed words, and then there was slick friction between their heated flesh. Clint groaned, Loki whined, and then they were moving together, rutting like impetuous beasts.

For Clint, it was all heat and the slick glide of flesh, his cock trapped within the cleft of Loki’s ass and his own flat stomach. For Loki, the teasing stroke of Clint’s arousal was maddening. He wanted nothing more than for his Hawk to fully lay claim to him, to take him to pieces as he’d begged and pleaded.

Then he was, pressing slowly -- so slowly, almost carefully, as if he thought taking Loki any faster might harm him in some irreparable way. Loki gritted his teeth to keep his frustrated whines locked behind them, and let Clint use him as he wished. That _was_ the whole point of this display, after all. He was merely a toy; a warm, willing hole for Clint to fuck. He could take him as carefully or as brutally as he wanted, and Loki would have to simply accept what his Hawk deigned to gift him.

When Clint finally came to rest, buried as deep as he could go, Loki was nearly out of his mind with the need to push back against him, to try to take him even _deeper_ , greedy thing that he was. For as much as Clint gave, for as perfect as it felt to take all that he had, he always craved _more_. He had been called many names in his long life, but ‘insatiable’ seemed to hold the most truth.

It was just as well his Hawk was always ready and willing to give.

"That what you wanted, Princess?" he asked in that lovely, gravelly voice that seemed to come directly from his gut. Before Loki could form an answer, he rutted forward before circling his hips, and whatever Loki might have said was torn from his thoughts, the breath he would have used for the words falling from his lips in a ragged gasp. "Thought so. You feel so fucking good like this; you’re so tight around me I can feel how bad you’re shaking."

The sound Loki made could almost have been a word, but Clint was too busy feeling to want to try figuring out what he might have said. It didn’t seem to require a reply, and so Clint went about pulling more of those not-words from his throat.

The slow, rocking pace Clint had begun wasn’t enough, and after a few lazy minutes of simply basking in the slick heat, he pulled back, nearly leaving Loki’s body, before _slamming_ back into him.

Loki’s voice rose in a ragged shout at his Hawk’s perfect aim, as pleasure so intense it was very nearly pain shot from his core to tingle through his entire body. Clint gave him no time to recover before he was slamming back again... and again... and again. For as languid and unhurried as he had started out, he was just as brutal and single-minded now. Taking a breath was suddenly the most difficult thing Loki had ever had to do in his life, and it almost seemed worth it to simply let Clint fuck it completely out of him.

Oh, but Clint _loved_ to hear him. Moaning and panting and whimpering, like the whore they both knew him to be, at least in _this_ bed. There were times that Clint wouldn’t even get undressed himself, using his hands and mouth, sometimes even just his voice, to get Loki off, and he would drink in all of the sounds Loki would make for him.

"C’mon, don’t hold out on me," Clint growled before ploughing back into him. "I want. To fucking. _Hear_ you!"; each pause punctuated by another vicious slam, the springs creaking in protest.

Loki gripped the sheets tight, his bound hands seeking purchase on anything within reach. He made himself take a breath, only for Clint to fuck it right back out of him. Then another, this time a breathless cry that was very nearly a scream. After that, it was easy enough for him to give Clint what he demanded; each time he would withdraw, Loki would pull in a breath, and each time he would slam back home, he would let it fall from him in whatever way his body chose. He was completely at his Hawk’s mercy, and never once did he wish to be anywhere else.

It was perfect, and so of course, it couldn’t last forever. Soon enough, Clint’s voice began to bleed into his breathing. If he had been free, Loki would have writhed beneath him, using his body to coax him along. As he was now, however, he could only kneel there and let Clint use him. It was dizzying, the feeling of being used; of letting himself be nothing more than Clint’s instrument to get off. He couldn’t move, could barely even _breathe_ , much less speak, and he was fairly certain that Clint’s attentions would have broken any other mortal being.

"So... perfect...," he panted, eyes half-lidded, only dimly realizing he was drooling against the sheets and simply not caring. "My Hawk... _Clint...!_ I’m so very close. Please...!"

A growl ripped the air between them, and Clint tightened his hold on Loki’s hair, jerking his head up to glare down into his eyes.

"That’s my whore," he ground out, never once breaking his rhythm. "Beg for me. Tell me what you want."

"Please!" Loki gasped again. "Please... your heat. I need to feel it. Inside me... please come inside me!"

There was no mistaking the shudder that rolled through Clint’s body at the sound of Loki’s begging. It was exactly what he wanted to do, and he was going to do exactly that.

"Fuck Princess, you don’t know what that does to me. Hearing you say that, in that fucking _voice_ ," and here he had to stop himself before he let go in that instant. "I’ll give you exactly what you want, but not before you do something for me."

"Anything," Loki rasped, no hesitation, not a spare second to think. He was always willing to do anything for his Hawk.

Clint’s hand left its nest in Loki’s hair and moved directly to circle his neglected cock. Loki’s body stilled.

"You first."

And then Loki’s flesh was pulsing, throbbing in Clint’s palm without so much as a single stroke. Simply the feeling of his fingers wrapped so perfectly around him was enough, when coupled with the slide of flesh within him and the sound of his voice so primal in his ear. He felt the warm puffs of Clint’s breath against his sweat-slick skin, his fingers gripping tight into the flesh of his hip as the pleasure exploded out from what felt like the very center of his being. His body rocked and pitched, rutting and grinding in equal measures his archer’s fist and still-turgid cock.

When Clint came, it seemed as though it was a surprise; he gasped and cussed, burying his face in the fall of hair down Loki’s back, until the scent of sex, sweat and leather finally pitched him over the edge into bliss. He gripped Loki tight around his middle with one arm, holding him tight against his body as he emptied himself deep inside. The pulse of his climax only prolonged Loki’s own pleasure, and he whimpered with the desire to circle his hips, to milk Clint for every drop he had to give.

"Don’t," Clint panted, and even in the midst of his pleasure his voice still held a cord of steel. "Don’t you fucking... move. _Fuck..."_ His voice was rough and ragged.

Only then did Loki allow his body to relax, and he lowered his head to the mattress, holding the both of them up on his shoulders alone. There would be time enough for him to tease and bait later, after the ropes had come off and his hands were free. Every moment he was left tied up and unable to run his hands across Clint’s skin was another moment he would steal in the future.

Then Clint was moving, slowly, sluggishly unwinding his arms from around Loki’s waist; uncurling his fingers from around his softening cock. He pulled back carefully, hissing at the wet slide of his oversensitive flesh. Loki made a soft, mournful sound at the loss of their connection, then arched into the touch of Clint’s hands sliding down his back.

The ropes holding him bound rippled, then vanished in the wake of his touch, and Clint let a small smile cross his face at the idea that Loki had bound himself like this simply because he thought he might like it.

"You have some _really_ good ideas, you know that?" he said, running his fingers over the already-fading rope-burns on the backs of Loki’s upper thighs.

Loki hummed agreement and turned onto his back, propping himself up on his elbows to smirk up at him. "It was more an educated guess, really," he allowed.

"We both know how good you are at guessing stuff about me, though. Kinda unfair, now that I think about it." He leaned over to push Loki down onto the bed before crawling up his body until they were eye-to-eye. "I’ll just have to think of something _really_ good to return the favor."

"Oh," Loki said quietly, letting his smirk grow into a sharp grin. "Are we making it a challenge now?"

"You know how I am with those damn things," Clint said with an answering grin. "I gotta be able to give as good as I get."

"Trust me, you _give_ more than enough."

Clint’s reply was to seal his mouth over Loki’s, and secretly thought to himself, _I win!_

 

Due to popular demand, [here is the photo.](http://contorted4life.deviantart.com/art/Muffled-Screams-344045363)

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was inspired by a photo I saw on Tumblr. ~~Anyone wants to see it, just comment.~~


End file.
